Shade Slip
by gray03
Summary: He knows this should concern him but it doesn't.


Title: Shade Slip  
Author: Karolyn Gray  
Rating: PG  
Synopsis: He knows this should concern him, but it doesn't.  
Character(s): Lee Adama, Saul Tigh  
Pairing: Lee/Kara (sort of)  
Spoilers: None.

**Shade Slip**  
By Karolyn Gray

When did space become so full and he so empty? He glances down with blurry eyes, from fatigue and not tears he insists to himself, the chain and metal chink of octagonal shaped metal that was no longer quite gold, but blackened, battered and dark stained. Rubbing his thumb along the surface he could barely feel the imprint of numbers and letters. He considers their meaning as he stares once more out over the busy deck. He doesn't see the orange coveralls of the technicians or hear the warning claxon, the clank of machinery and the desperately shouted orders of the Chief. All he sees is the blossom of fiery orange on endless black and the sound of her final choked out laugh of surprise.

"The alert fighters have launched, Captain. What are you still doing here?"

"Frak you," he replies, wondering at how easily flippant the words spill from his lips. She would have been proud of him. He would be proud of himself if he didn't still feel the cold detachment that had gripped him for the past seven days. All he wanted at this moment was to feel something, anything.

"Attention, Captain!"

The wave of rage he feels is a relief even as he notices that he has his pistol now squarely aimed at the shocked expression on the XO's face. Maybe he is still capable of feeling something, after all. He should really thank Colonel Tigh for the revelation, but he's too focused on holding onto the emotion and ignoring the liquid trailing down his cheeks. The CAG doesn't cry for a corpse seven days dead, even if it had once been his best friend left in the entire frakked up universe.

"You don't want to do this," the Colonel says with a certainty that makes him ease his pull on the trigger. There is something in the older man's dark eyes that awakens the remnants of his curiosity.

"Why not?"

"Because she wouldn't want you to do this," Tigh replies.

"She doesn't want anything anymore," he notes dully, regrettably realizing the rage has slipped away and all he feels is emptiness again. "Nothing matters anymore."

He pulls his pistol away from the Colonel and towards himself, though not really pointed _at_ himself yet. A little flick of the wrist and pull of the finger would be all it took. With his reflexes, the older man couldn't stop him even if he tried.

"You matter."

"Right."

"The Fleet needs you."

"I don't care," he admits honestly as he re-holsters his pistol. After all, why deny the truth? He has nothing for which to care.

"Your father needs you."

He almost feels himself smile at the Colonel's words. He's glad he doesn't smile, remembering his father's angry words after the funeral service.

"Why? I'm just the worst CAG in the history of CAGs and the frak up son he never wanted," echoing back the bitter words his father had flung at him.

For a brief moment he wishes he could be the innocent ten year old who had first known Tigh as 'Uncle Saul'. Uncle Saul who had remembered his birthday when his father had not, Uncle Saul who instead of yelling at him after catching him playing with his father's loaded sidearm had taught him how to handle it responsibly and never told a soul about what happened. He wonders if Colonel Tigh is wishing the same thing at this very moment.

"He needs you." The Colonel insists, a little too stridently to Lee's mind.

"What, to kill more pilots?" He asks bitterly.

"To live."

'_What for?'_ Lee wonders. His career? That ended in the post-Holocaust era of mankind. He flew and commanded because he didn't know what else to do. Family and friends? They were all dead and buried, or may as well be. He doesn't see the point for doing so but finds himself asking the question anyway.

"What for?"

"Her."

"You hate her," he replies, surprised that he is actually startled at the Colonel's answer. "Even more than you hate me."

"I don't hate you, Lee," Tigh counters, emotion making his words sound strangled. "The Fleet still needs you to do your job. I need you to do your job."

"I told you I don't care," he replies, ignoring a tightening within himself that he isn't able to identify. Something so painfully taut he can feel it ready to shatter.

"You'll fly anyway." The Colonel insists.

Lee is amazed that the older man doesn't seem to notice the growing tension within him, even as he realizes the absurdity of the thought. "Why's that?"

"Because she would in your place," Tigh answers.

In that instant he felt whatever had been building snap, a sudden, sharp pain that makes him squeeze his eyes shut until it passes. When he opens his eyes again, he blinks with the startling clarity of what is going on around him. The claxon blaring, the Chief's strident shouts at the scurrying deck crew, and Colonel Tigh looking at him with an expression on his face best described as perplexed.

He runs his fingers over the script on the tags once again before looping them around his neck to nestle alongside his own. He should turn them in but knows Kara had no blood relations in the Fleet, just himself and his dad. It didn't seem right to let someone file them away as just another statistic.

"_It's okay, Lee. You keep them. Keep them as long as you want."_

He nods at her words, feeling oddly relieved.

'_The drunken bastard is right, you know. I would keep flying.'_

He smiles at the laughter in her voice. "Yes, sir. She would," he murmurs.

"Maybe you should see Doctor Cottle, Captain," Tigh suggests with a sudden wary expression that makes Lee wonder how much of the conversation he just had with the XO was in his head.

'_He thinks you are crazy, Apollo. We can't fly together if you get grounded.'_ She whispers to him.

He doesn't need to tell her that he probably is crazy. After all he is listening to her and she's dead, a shade in his mind. He knows this should concern him, but it doesn't. This is the first time he has felt remotely normal since she died. He doesn't feel so empty anymore.

"No, sir. I'm good. I can do my job," he assures the XO, plastering on his best dutiful and determined officer face in the hopes of assuaging the Colonel's obvious suspicions.

'_Do you practice that look in the mirror?'_ She asks, almost making him crack his serious expression.

"Very well then," Tigh nods reluctantly. "Good hunting, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

He scrambles into his Mark VII Viper with a long practiced ease.

'_I love these Mark VII's.' _Her comment actually causes him to pause in his last equipment checks, not noticing the technicians closing his cockpit, moving the Viper forward into the launch tube, or the magcat engaging.

"So you forgive me?" He asks quietly.

'_Nothing to forgive, Apollo. Now let's shoot frakking Cylons out of the sky.'_

He actually laughs when his Viper is flung free of the launch tube and he hears her laughter echoing in his mind. Dee inquires if he is all right, but he ignores her to concentrate on the swath of space before him. He sees the Cylon raiders and his own Vipers twisting, turning, fighting, and dying before him. He grins for the first time in days as a cluster of Raiders pass his position. Letting out a loud whoop that he knows will leave those monitoring the wireless with sore ears and a headache he dives his Viper into the swarm.

'_I've got your wing, Apollo.'_

Fin.


End file.
